


The Bright Lights That Only You See In Your Love's Eyes

by r_j_l



Series: Forging The Broken Pieces Of Us Into Something Better [3]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Grinding, Hand Jobs, If you can’t laugh during sex than what is the point, Insecurity, Laughter, Laughter During Sex, No but there may be a fourth part to this - it’s half written already, Sleepiness, Smut, TBH I fell asleep editing this because the first half is so calming and fluffy, The people asked for more and they will receive, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-07
Updated: 2019-10-07
Packaged: 2020-11-27 05:42:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20943260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/r_j_l/pseuds/r_j_l
Summary: Gendry waking up twice before dawn with Arya still in his arms.The first time, he's the only one awake, but he finds himself with a groggy bed mate whose only goal is to fall asleep again after some inconsequential and some consequential discussions.The second time, he's the second to rouse and she's toying with him in the best way but she can use a little help herself.Takes place the morning after The Contentment Found In The Healing Hands Of The One You LoveSmut after the scene break





	The Bright Lights That Only You See In Your Love's Eyes

Waking up with her in his arms again is one of the greatest moments of his life, he's sure about that. She hasn't shifted from where she fell asleep last night, her spot right on top of his chest. It a comforting weight against him, one he's missed dearly. 

He wasn't sure he would ever get this again. He'd hoped he would. The past few months of waking up from dreams like this could cause him to doubt his current reality, but he can hear her tiny wind-like snores and feel the constant beat of her heart. 

Seeing her across the battlefield thrilled him. He'd heard from Davos what she had done with that spear, but witnessing it was like nothing else, and afterward, she'd taken the biggest step towards where they are now, searching for safety in his familiar presence. He knows now that she was never truly lost to him as he had feared.

Even drunk, he was so sure that she had wanted to say yes. Her eyes so big and full of light and love even as she told him no. 

The sun has not begun to rise, but there is enough light to see the details of her, her left hand reaching up to his shoulder, her hair loose and falling every which way in a mess, and her face smushed to one side over his heart. He can feel her steady breaths against his skin. Yes, this is exactly where she should be. She looks like she's actually resting. She'll need to rest for days.

There's a bruise on her forehead that's risen overnight, a nasty purple and green slash near her hairline.

He has his hands on her lower back underneath the shirt she's wearing, she placed them there herself after Jon left them alone. He hasn't had the willpower to move them away from her skin all night.

He begins to move his fingertips in small spiral patterns along her back and sides, just wanting to feel more of her warm skin. Lightly gliding over or moving around every cut she has.

It's waking her up slowly, her breathing uneven, a small smile forming on her lips before she turns her head. Her lips, placing a kiss over his heart as she says something incomprehensible into his skin.

"What was that?" he asks, his voice slow and rough because of sleep.

"Tickles," she says after moving her head again, lightly laughing.

He keeps it up until he hears a low growl rumble in her throat, "Just stop moving them," she says after, he can't keep the smile off his face.

He stops the movement, and after few moments, he is graced by the gorgeous sight of her incredible grey eyes opening, "Morning," she mumbles and stretches, her other arm leaving his side and reaching beyond his left shoulder as she stretches both arms at the same time. Resting her hands on both his shoulders once at least three joints audibly pop.

"How do you feel?" he asks, covering her hands with his own, just holding them gently, his left shoulder feels phenomenally better this morning. He only hopes she feels the same.

"Like a bruise," she says, shrugging her shoulders, which brings her a little further up his torso. Just close enough that if he tried, he'd be able to kiss the bruse on her forehead. So he does, earning him a sleepy but happy smile.

"And besides that?" he asks as her wrists turn, lacing her fingers with his.

"Happy, relaxed, loved," she lists off softly, almost as if she's afraid to say the words aloud.

"How did you sleep?" she asks, changing the subject very obviously.

"Better than I expected, better than I have in months," he says before he can process that he means it. Every word, he's rested.

Her hum of agreement makes him think that she feels the same.

"We should get up," he says into the air, instantly wishing he hadn't the moment the idea slips from his lips. That would mean moving from their comfortable position. It would mean her not on top of him anymore. It means they'd have to talk to Jon, something he's dreading. He's an idiot, he really is. He almost grabs her as she starts to move off of him, but he doesn't.

What surprises him is after she's done moving and is still again, all that's changed is that her head is resting beside his, and her body is at his side instead of on top of him. "It's not even dawn yet. I'm not leaving our bed until I have to."

"Our bed?" he asks, he likes the idea of that.

"I don't have a tent pitched in this a camp. Yours will have to do," she says into his neck.

He turns his head to face her, "It's no feather bed m'lady, a princess of the North would be given a feather bed," he teases, but it's her blushing to the word princess, it's such a beautiful surprise.

"We've slept on much worse," she says softly, ignoring her reaction, "and perhaps I don't need a feather bed m'lord. It's not like I spent the night sleeping on the bed, did I?" she asks, eyebrow rising as if daring him to dispute her words.

"You're much more comfortable than any bed, warmer too," she explains, a pleased tone to her voice as he pulls her closer.

He can't keep his self-satisfaction out of his voice as he asks with a laugh, "Oh, am I?"

"Obviously," she says, her whole body relaxing next to his as if that alone will make her point for her, and he lets it.

They go quiet, the conversation over. He thinks she's fallen asleep, but then she shifts, and he knows she's still awake.

His insecurities momentarily getting the better of him he just needs to check with her, yes that will make him feel better. 

He clears his throat, and he feels her head shift a little, their eyes opening at the same moment. It's difficult to remember what he was going to say; he's so distracted by her eyes and her smile. Then it all comes crashing back. "You have no second thoughts about this?" 

At her confused expression, he adds with a shrug, "Us. You and me."

"Why would I?" she asks, truly confused, or at least she seems to be.

"I'm just checking," he says, holding her a little bit more tightly to himself than before.

Her hand reaches up to cup his cheek, "Are you the same person you were yesterday?" she asks, the question completely serious. Her eyes, searching for something in his own.

"I am," he says, his whole body relaxing beside her.

"Well good," she said, nodding her head twice, keeping her eyes on him as she leans in closer, her lips a fraction from his, "because I love that man. I love you."

"Arry..." he begins to say, but he stops, instead, closing the gap between their lips, the world narrows to the two of them, all he cares about.

She's the one to break the kiss, her hand now down toward his neck, fingertips running through his stubble as she whispers, "I love you, Gendry. Trust that," against his lips.

He nods his head, his forehead resting on hers as she looks him in the eyes and takes a deep calming breath, "Now let's go back to sleep, I'm tired."

Her head burrows into his neck, her nose a fraction from it. He falls asleep to the steady feeling of her every inhale and exhale against his skin.

\------

He wakes up sometime later to her hand in his breeches, gripping his length. Her strokes confident as her hand slides easily up and down while she kisses up his neck to his cheek. The scent of her slick, he can smell it in the air around them.

"Arya?" he asks, opening his eyes and turning to face her.

Her sly smile and the look in her eyes almost finishes him in an instant. "Yes?" she asks, she knows exactly what she's doing to him.

They ignored his need when they up woke up before; this time doesn't have to be any different. "You don't have to," he says weakly, a moan escaping his lips as he speaks. His breathing quick enough already that it could almost sound like laughter. 

"But I want to," she says, a playful pout appearing on her lips as she begins to stroke faster.

He doesn't have a good response to that, his eyes heavy, drifting close as the pleasure she's causing him increases.

Her lips find his. He tries at least to return her kisses as well as he can given his current state. She pulls away giggling from his lips suddenly, and he tries to follow her with his lips. 

Opening his eyes as she giggles again, "I love to watch you fall apart."

How did he ever get this lucky, whatever did he do to deserve her?

His jaw drops while she places feather-light kisses to his face. She slows her hand when she, for a moment, grinds herself into the side of his leg through her breeches.

Shifting his hands from where it was resting on her side to her arse and pressing her closer to his leg to aid in her pleasure. "Arya do you want me to..." but he's promptly shut up by her lips against his as she shakes her head and brings her thumb up and over the tip of his length.

"Relax," she says once she breaks the kiss, her own voice heavy. She brings up her free hand to rest in his hair, fingernails scratching his scalp for a moment. He can't help but close his eyes at the sensation. She doesn't stop grinding against him, but most of her attention seems to be on him at the moment; he continues to hold her close, knowing it will help her. 

With his eyes closed, he can pretend they're back in Winterfell during that wonderful week after the battle and before his unwise proposal. The nights and mornings spent in her bed, her body against his, exploring each other, and discovering the best ways to bring the other pleasure.

Knowledge she's using effectively right now, he's ready to burst out of his skin she has him in such a state so quickly.

She pulls a rough moan from him as she presses his lips to hers again, the hand on his head, giving an experimental tug to his short hair. It only makes everything feel more intense. 

He can hear her giggle again, she knows, she saw how close that made him.

"Look at me," her voice is desperate, her words a mix between a demand and a plea. She tugs his hair again as his eyes meet hers. That and her thumb over his tip sends him over that glorious edge of pleasure. She must swallow his cry with her lips, but he can't feel her doing it, he so far gone.

He comes back to himself a minute later, and she's still grinding against him. The hand she had on him moments ago pressed to her core from over her breeches. There's a wet spot where he came and another where she likely wiped her hand on the outside on his breeches.

She begins to shake. "Arya," he says softly, her eyes lifting to meet his, "Love, let go," and she does. A throaty cry leaving her perfect lips before he can stifle the sound. She shakes for ages, at some point breaking the kiss to say incoherent words against his skin, which makes him laugh after he catches his own breath.

"You don't have any tea?" he guesses once she's come down. She nods against him again, her lips peppering kisses to any skin she can reach.

"Remarkable that was," he says once they've both calmed some, his lips on her forehead as they laugh together in the ease they've created, "but you didn't have to."

She goes absolutely still for a second, and he momentarily panics until she moves. Now leaning over him, she traces his face with her fingers and hells they smell divine, like both of them together, "You're just too damn handsome for me to ignore," she admits tracing over his lips. 

He's quick enough to catch one, her pointer in between his lips, tasting them together on his tongue before she pulls it away again. "I missed this just as much as you probably did, I think," and gods help him she giggles again, her eyes bright and mischievous.


End file.
